


Three Dudes And A Baby

by Aestheticdenbrough



Series: AUs based off things [3]
Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Baby Daddy AU, Baby Shower, Beer, Breakup, Childhood Memories, Conflict, Drinking, Feelings, First Date, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Infertility, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Moving, Multi, New People, Parenthood, Passion, Post-Break Up, Reunion, Set Up, Setting Up, Shower Sex, bill has a baby, fast moving relationship, fight, first date sex, mention of alcholism, mention of childhood, moving in, near cheating, single parent, wanting to make up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestheticdenbrough/pseuds/Aestheticdenbrough
Summary: Bill ends up with a hookup baby, and calls upon his friends for help.





	1. Three Dudes And A Baby

"so, Bill, tell me again why you thought you had the jurisdiction to tell Richie he can take my other spare room?" Stan says, looking annoyed and staring at the door.

Bill walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, "because he's like a brother to us?" He says as if it's obvious.

"But he's _Richie_ , you're bad enough," Stan says, shaking his head. "We're labelling the food in the fridge again, he won't listen, but we can say it was there," Stan says with a smirk.

"C'mon Stan, it'll be alright," Bill smiles, heading over by his room again. "His parents basically raised me! It's the least we could do!"

"Funny they raised you both and he turned out like that- wait actually you're not too different," Stan jokes, his gaze shooting back to the door when he hears a knock. He walks over and opens it lazily, "Hey, Richie," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Hey stanthony!" Richie exclaims, walking in like he's been living there for years, "Love what you've done with the place, my boys!" He grins, seeing bill changing with the door open, "oy! Billiam! Your balls finally dropped!" He teases.

Bill immediately goes to cover himself, yanking his boxers to be less _naked_. "Oh shut up, Dick!" Bill yells back, kicking his door shut so he can finish getting dressed in peace. 

There's another knock on the door which leaves Richie and Stan looking at each other in confusion. "You didn't invite anyone, right?" Stan asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Nah, you two are the only welcome party I need," Richie grins, going in to hug Stan but gets pushed away in the other man's effort to get to the door.

"Hello?" He asks when he opens the door and finds nobody, before hearing gibberish from below. His jaw drops and he looks back to Richie, looking panicked and gestures for him to come over and look.

"Uhhh- did someone order a baby?" Richie asks when he sees what's on the doorstep. 

"What?" Bill calls from his room, not having heard what was asked, walking out finally dressed. Stan and Richie part to reveal the car seat and child within it. "That's not mine," Bill says quietly, eyeing it nervously.

"It could be?" Stan suggests, "it's got blue eyes," he mentions, looking between the group of them, "it's a recessive trait, mom and dad almost always have to have them," he says softly, looking between the kid and Bill.

Bill walks over with his hands pressed to his eyes, "damn, did I really-?" He asks himself, lifting the car seat, bringing it into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He puts the car seat on the coffee table. 

"So... D'we take it out?" Richie asks, standing near the entrance with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Uh- I guess," Bill Responds, pulling the blanket off from the belts, unbuckling them and trying to lift the child carefully enough, putting them up against his chest, a hand on their upper back and under her butt.

"D'awww, Billy, it is yours, fatherly instinct," Richie coos, going closer to study the face of the infant.

"Looks just like ya!" Richie exclaims, tapping the baby's nose. 

"Ohhhh god- it smells," Bill says, holding the baby a bit farther from himself, looking into the car seat, shifting the blanket to search, finding a slip of paper. 

"Oh thank god, a note!" Bill exclaims, setting the baby down to study it.

"Her name is Maria, she's three months, fuck- okay you guys were right. I'm a fucking father," he sighs, pacing a bit.

"Who's the mommy?" Richie asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Uhhh, I dunno?" Bill hums out sheepishly, _three months. Nine months. A year? Who was I sleeping with a year ago?_ He thinks to himself, biting his lip in concentration.

"A year ago? Wasn't that Beverly?" Stan asks, thinking faster than Bill is, "the redhead, teased you because you almost looked like siblings," he remembers, tapping his pointer finger to his chin.

Bill nods, "yeah- yeah- I'd think so. Why the fuck wouldn't she have talked to be about this?" He sighs in exasperation, pacing some more.

"Ah that spicy one, I met her once I think," Richie comments, shimmying his shoulders when he calls her spicy, "you banged a hot one but you didn't use a condom?" Richie sighs disappointedly.

Stan looks sheepishly from his spot where he stands, "once I poked a hole in one of bill's condoms, we argued, I was pissed!" He says, his voice getting high and nervous. "And you just _happened_ to use that _one_ ," Stan sighs, looking down at his feet.

"Stan what the _fuck_?" Bill nearly shrieks, causing the baby to start crying, "fuck and she needs diapers, why the fuck don't we have diapers? Stan- I'll deal with you later," he sighs, grabbing his jacket and just walking out the door.

"Jay-zus," Richie says in one of his bad accents, Stan can't even identify this one anymore, "he seems mad as all hay-all," Richie adds, sighing and plopping on the couch, staring the baby in the car seat in the eye.

"Yeah," Stan says softly. _God I regret everything_ , the anxiety part of his brain nags, sitting himself on the couch next to Richie. "We're like that movie, three guys and a baby," Stan comments.

Richie lets out a weak chuckle, picking at a hangnail, at a loss for words for once in his life.

Bill comes back nearly an hour later, obviously not needing all that time for the task, but maybe needing it to clear his head.

He lets himself in, a bag in his hand, the plastic handles twisted and a bit ripped, making it more obvious he'd been walking around for a while, likely messing with it.

"I'm back," he says simply, setting the bag down next to the baby, grimacing at the smell, not even acknowledging Stan or Richie as he picks Maria up and sets her back on the table, pulling her clothes off to change her diaper, adopting a softer expression when she starts crying again.

He gets her cleaned up, awkwardly to say the least, picking her up after, holding her to his chest, "what do we do?" He asks them, his voice soft with a hint of fear wavering at the end of it.

"I texted Mike, he should be coming over I think," Stan says, not even looking up from his phone, feeling guilty when he hears his usually endlessly brave friend's voice quiver.

Bill nods, bouncing the baby around a little, sitting on the couch next to Richie, sitting her up in his lap, awkward with babies.

Richie sighs, "it's too quiet," he says, grabbing the TV remote and turning it, rolling his eyes when the last thing they'd been watching was the news.

"Hey! I like to stay educated," Stan argues when he sees Richie's eyes, "at least I know more than you do," he teases Richie, sticking his tongue out.

"Ah Stanny boy, I get all I need from Twitter and drama sites," Richie says smoothly, ruffling Stan's hair until Stan slaps his hand away.

Stan looks at him, the guilt eating away at him, the concern bubbling up to his facial expression. Consequences. _God I hate this. I caused this_ , he thinks to himself.

There's a soft knock at the door, and then Mike lets himself in, "you guys really need to start locking your door, I could be a killer," he says with a wide smile and a shrug, a joking tone on his tongue.

"Well I gotta let the murderers know I'm willing," Bill shoots back with a grin, letting the baby grip his fingers, holding her arms up, "also this is new."

Mike smiles back, closing the door behind him and crouching in front of him on the couch, looking the baby over. "She really does look like you," Mike says softly. "You're going to put her up for adoption, right? Bill- you can't have a kid right now," he gets even more quiet, looking only at the baby, never up at Bill.

"I- I don't think I want to, Mike," Bill says softly. "She's been out there and I didn't know. That was okay. But her being out there and I know? I don't think I could handle that," he says quietly, looking down at her again, bouncing her arms to see if he can get her to smile.

Mike just gives an awkward nod, not knowing what to say, so he just stands up and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. "Gang's all here I guess," he changes the topic with a smile. "Anyone seen Eddie?" 

Richie grins in response, "Nah, he's too small, haven't seen the shrimp because my eyes just go right over his head," he jokes, clicking his tongue, "ah I've still got it," he smirks, not having made a joke about Eddie in who knows how long.

"Say we text the lil guy?" Mike suggests, getting some water from the sink, sipping it and sitting on a stool at the island. 

"Yeah, I suppose," Stan says with a nod, pulling his phone out, gesturing to it to show that he'll do it.

Within minutes, there's a knock on the door, and then it opens, "you really gotta lock this th-," Eddie starts rambling, stopping when he sees the surprise on everyone's face. "What? Do you guys not check my Facebook? I've been living in new york- nurse practitioner," he sighs, looking frustrated that they seemed so clueless.

"Been busy," Bill mumbles, his eyes going up and down Eddie, "you've grown," he says finally, saying what everyone was thinking.

"You're almost as long as my wang," Richie says, standing up and going over to hug him, being pushed away quickly.

"Yeah, you haven't changed," Eddie says bitterly, not really meaning it, "Bill has a kid, is that the only difference? Always saw that happening," he shrugs, already making his way to the fridge.

"Jeez Eddie, what kind of growth potion did you drink? You're taller than me," Stan says, standing up and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ohmygod guys, drop it," Eddie breathes out, grabbing a beer from the shelf, popping it open and taking a drink. 

"But you're not a shrimp anymore!" Mike exclaims, pulling Eddie to him, despite being the shorter of the two now.

Eddie smiles into the hug despite his words, "guess I'm a late bloomer," he shrugs, looking over Mike's shoulder at Bill. _Same reddish hair, same blue eyes, sharp jaw... Wide shoulders_ , he snaps out of it when Mike separates from him, "it's great to see you guys," he grins. 

"I feel like we never talk," Stan pipes in, "guess we're all busy adults, it fucking sucks," he adds, walking over for his own hug from Eddie.

Richie nods his head in agreement, standing up himself and getting a beer of his own, clinking it with Eddie's while he's still in Stan's embrace.

"God Richie, you're such a child," Eddie whines, pulling away from Stan, initiating his own hug with Richie despite his words. "I hate you," he whispers in Richie's ear before pulling away.

Richie nods his head in agreement, standing up himself and getting a beer of his own, clinking it with Eddie's while he's still in Stan's embrace.

"God Richie, you're such a child," Eddie whines, pulling away from Stan, initiating his own hug with Richie despite his words. "I hate you," he whispers in Richie's ear before pulling away.

"So uh, what do I do about this baby?" Bill asks, holding her arms up again.

"Take care of it I guess, Billiam," Richie teases, taking a sip from his beer. “And get better pull out game.”


	2. Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a late baby shower, and Bill considers adoption, and feels like a fifth wheel.

Bill isn't awoken by the usual chirp of his alarm but instead a cry, a shriek, and a frustrated groan from the other room. He grabs his pillow over his face, trying to drown out the sound before he remembers. He pulls himself out of bed, his feet hitting the cold wood floor and he pads over to the crib.

"Hey, Maria," he smiles half heartedly, picking her up against his chest, bouncing her around and laying her on his own bed, grabbing a diaper from the package on his nightstand. "Guess we're doing this," he sighs, undoing the dirty one and giving her a fresh one. "All clean now?" He asks.

She responds with her face crumbling into another piercing cry, which brings a wince to his face, "Oh- fuck," he groans, picking her up again, bouncing her slightly in effort to he soothing.

Stan comes into his room, looking sleepy and annoyed, "Have you tried feeding her?" The grumpy man asks, patting down his hair because it was always unruly in the morning.

Bill rolls his eyes, bouncing her soothingly on the way to the kitchen to find where he'd put the formula he bought, along with a cheap bottle, unknowing of how to _start_ being a parent this deep into the game. 

He mixes the thin powder, pouring it into the bottle and shaking it up, Richie walking in as he does. "Wow, Bill! Cocaine and a masterbating like movement, father of the year!" He exclaims. 

Bill sighs in disappointment, putting the bottle up to Maria's mouth, trying to coach her into eating, "She doesn't listen!" He whisper yells, trying his best until she finally starts sucking and he finally relaxes.

"Man, thought you'd be the fatherly type," Stan comments, watching Bill's anxiety over the tiny human, taking her carefully and sitting on the couch calmly to feed her, surprising both Bill and Richie with his calmness.

"You're even good with babies?" Richie asks incredulously, "slipping into the seat next to Stan. "Ah such good man-candy, marry me already," he purrs jokingly, putting his chin on Stan's shoulder and looking down at Maria. 

Stan looks absolutely disgusted, elbowing Richie in the chest, "Ew, go away, you're getting your 'Richie stink' on the innocent baby," he frowns, too focused on making sure she finishes the bottle to notice the feeble knock on the door.

Bill hears it, pulling up his slouchy gray sweatpants, making his way to the door sleepily, running his hands through his hair and yawning, he opens it and takes a moment to gather who's standing in front of him. _Beverly Marsh. The mommy. Holy shit._

Her hair is in short curls, hanging just at her shoulders, her hand holding the strap of her leather over the shoulder bag. Her makeup is all done, making Bill think she's here to impress him in some way.

"I forgot to leave something with her yesterday. Adoption papers, I've signed them to relinquish my rights. All you have to do is sign them and send them off," she shrugs, holding his gaze with a serious expression, her lips in a tight line.

Bill takes the folder, giving her an expression that's mostly unreadable. "Uh- thank you," he says plainly, not having expected her to be so outright about that, especially not expecting that topic at all, and he hasn't even expected her to show up.

All in all he's a bit dumbfounded, and she looks somewhat pleased with herself for it, "I mean, you're obviously not fit for a child, you realize that, right? You live in an apartment full of sharp objects and rowdy roommates, and you can hardly cook," she says, raising her eyebrow in a judgement towards him.

"It's my business if I'm going to raise the fruit of my loins, thank you very much," he says bitterly, very tempted to just close the door in her face.

"Anyways. I have a shoot. I have to run, not that I want to stay here," she says, taking control and reaching in to close the door from outside, the sound of her heels clipping disappearing down the hall.

Bill looks back to Richie and Stan, Stan's soft coos at his own daughter bringing a warmth to him, a smile spreading across his face despite the stress that had just been built up into his shoulders.

"Bev, adoption papers," Bill says simply, holding up the tan folder with an awkward smile and setting it down on the table by the front door, not planning to do anything with the papers, besides maybe just make sure Bev's parental rights are legally relinquished, simply to make the future easier for him and his kid. _My kid._

"Oh," Richie says, immediately looking shocked and worried, _gotten attached too fast- oh God, please don't get rid of her_ , the thoughts already run through the gears in his head. 

"I'm not gonna relinquish my rights," Bill says simply, taking the spot next to Stan, watching his tender expression towards the baby. _God, it's adorable. I'd keep the baby just to witness moments like this, but I just can't know I have a kid and not provide for her_... He thinks to himself.

_I'm a dead end writer with a side job as a bartender. I'm probably not fit for this. It's worth a try_ , he tries not to be too self critical, clasping his hands together in his lap to keep them from fidgeting anxiously.

There's another knock at the door and Bill immediately prays to any god there is that it isn't Bev again, he already can't stand her, and he usually is neutral about his exes. 

He gets up to go get it, finding Eddie and Mike with a closed cake box, starting to carry it to the counter before any of them get a chance to say something. "You got to be a father by surprise, didn't get a baby shower," Mike says sweetly, opening the box to reveal a cake inscripted with "It's a girl!" in pink icing.

Bill smiles, and Richie gets up immediately, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together menacingly.

"Gosh, you guys are sweet," Bill smiles slightly, walking over, pulling his phone out to take a picture, he'd put it up on his Instagram whenever he decides to post a picture of Maria there, not knowing how to tell this story to the public without exposing himself as a "man whore".

Stan gets up, gently laying Maria back in her baby carrier, wanting to join in on the "late baby shower" action. Richie takes a dollop of frosting on his pointer finger, licking it off with a sound that makes Eddie cringe, but he can't help but find Richie beautiful anyways, in his own gross way.

Mike cuts the cake, and he and Stan take small pieces, sitting on the couch, Mike's arm around Stan's shoulder.

_Did they get to talking again after we all met up again yesterday?_ He wonders to himself, remembering how Mike and Stan had had a fling one summer, and just assuming it must be back, bringing a slight tug of jealousy to his heart.

He sees Eddie and Richie getting cozy too, how Eddie's eyes watched closely as Richie sucks the frosting off his finger, biting his lip and looking just a little turned on by the way his lips moved.

Bill sighs, a little lonely seeing them all getting cozy, then he looks over at Maria, gurgling to herself in her seat, _we're in this together, kiddo_ , he thinks towards her.

He watches from his barstool, seeing Richie swipe frosting onto Eddie's shirt with a laugh that rang through the apartment. He sees the redness in Eddie's face, dragging Richie to the bathroom to clean both his shirt and get the sticky substance out of Richie's hair.

Bill sighs, seeing the hop in Richie's step as they skip off, _it was on purpose, he thinks to himself, you go dude! Get some!_ He thinks to himself about Richie. _Wait- ew in my bathroom._

They don't come out for a long time, Stan, Mike, and Bill had already even cleaned up all the cake related mess. A few small sounds come from the door from time to time, but nearly not heard over the sound of the shower running. _They think they're slick_ , Bill snickers to himself.

They come out finally, their hair dripping but at least dressed, Richie's skip reduced to an awkward waddle. _Eddie? A top? Wouldn't expect it_ , Bill thinks to himself, winking at Richie playfully.

"I- I had to make sure he got clean, god he was _disgusting_ ," Eddie explains, despite looking proudly at Richie, smacking his ass as he waddles to sit on the couch.


	3. Bill's Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan gets left alone with Maria, inviting Mike over once she falls asleep.

Today, Maria doesn't scream Bill awake. He stopped setting his alarm because it just upsets the baby further. He finally shifts awake due to the light streaming through his window, having been too lazy to close his curtains the night before.

He winces at the brightness and turns to face his clock, squinting at the digital numbers until they squirm and mold into something readable. He lets it sink in for a few moments before jolting into a sitting position. _Fuck I'm late_. He throws his covers off, sliding out of bed. He grabs his black jeans from the day before, jumping into them over the boxer briefs he slept in.

He pulls of his v neck in favor for his work button up, looking himself in the mirror quickly. He brushes his red hair around, brushing it back and spraying probably either too much or too little hair spray on, even after years of styling his hair he'd never know. The fringe will always be his natural state.

He scoops up his daughter quickly, running on his socked toes to slide her into the plastic highchair. "Okay, breakfast is gonna be pretty quick today, yeah?" He prepares her, going for the bottle in the fridge. He sets it in front of her and slips on his sneakers.

"Stan! Richie! Take care of my baby! Thank you! Love you guys!" He says as he bolts out of the apartment, his sweatshirt slung over his shoulder precariously as he hears the raindrops plink against the window softly.

Stan comes out from his bedroom only in his blue boxers, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes as best he can. "Bill?" He asks as the door slams behind said man. "Godamnit, William," he grumbles to himself when he sees Maria.

The bottle is sideways on her highchair. He picks it up and adjusts it in her mouth, opting to pick her up carefully, cradling her in his arms and helping her latch onto the bottle. "Your daddy is gonna get it- yes he is," he coos in the voice he reserves only for talking to cats and babies.

He sits himself on the pale blue couch, laying across it with his bare legs stretched out. He holds Maria to his chest, supporting her head with the palm of his hand cupped around the back.

"You dad is a mess, you know?" He jokes, mostly teasingly towards Bill despite the fact that he's not present. "He's making hungover people more alcohol right now," he coos, poking the baby's nose.

She stops sucking and he takes the bottle back, setting it on the table and sitting up slowly, keeping her against his chest. "Still sleepy?" He asks, seeing her eyes close and a soft huff escape her.

He decides his question is the affirmative, swaying back and forth as he carries her back to the crib in Bill's room. He grimaces at the mess, _Bill, I pay for this place_ , he thinks to himself.

He lays her on the cot, pulling the blanket over her carefully, "Rest well, and no crying- understand?" He jokes, stroking her cheek slightly. He watches her slowly drift off before heading back out to the couch.

He sits on the couch, crossing one leg over the other in a '4' shape. He pulls out his phone, navigating to Mike's contact. He taps away a text to Mike, simply asking about his day. Mike responds nearly right away asking if he could come over since he doesn't have work today.

Stan smiles to himself, excitement already bubbling up in himself. He tells him yes. Since they'd been rekindling an old fling, things have been great. It's been all slow songs and picnics in the park, exactly what Stan needs in life now.

It's almost as if Mike had already been on his way because he shows up much sooner than Stan would have expected, still walking around with a soggy towel wrapped around his waist post shower in preparation for Mike.

He smiles awkwardly as he opens the door, "Uh, hi, let me put on some clothes," he chuckles awkwardly as he moves out of the way for Mike to come in.

Mike laughs with him, stepping into the apartment and sitting on the couch, "Where are Bill and Richie?" He asks, hearing the quiet that most definitely wouldn't be there if they were present.

"Bill ran off to work and left me with his kid- more on that later, Richie? I don't know, I don't think he came home from the bar last night, honestly," Stan chuckles to himself on his way back to his room. 

"Oh so Rich is- uh- at a sleepover?" Mike yells to Stan in his room, laughing to himself at the idea. Richie has always been a dork, not suave or good at flirting in any way, seeing him try now is an adventure.

"He went with Eddie! So you take your guess!" Stan chuckles after yelling back, coming back into the living room with shorts already pulled on and buttoning his shirt up over the white tank top he'd pulled on. All slightly damp still from the shower, but at least he'll dry.

"They getting it on now?" Mike asks with an awkward giggle-like noise. He leans back on the couch, putting his arm out for Stan to nestle in next to him.

"Guess so," Stan shrugs and he sits up against Mike's side. _This_ , he decides, _truly is bliss_. The honeymoon period of a relationship will always be his favorite, no problems to work through or real future plans to make, just _nice._

"Good for them," Mike hums, kissing Stan's head affectionately. "Glad we're all finding love," he comments, rubbing Stan's shoulder with his thumb, "Not Bill though, but he's got a baby, gosh, we're all _adults_ , Stanley," he says, sounding absolutely in awe with his last statement. 

All they can usually think about is how they met as kids. The days in the quarry under the hot summer sun. The leaf piles, the snowmen, rolling down grassy hills. All that changed, they'd all moved to a big city together and still ended up growing apart. He can only hope that this can keep them together again, not wanting to lose his best friends ever again.


	4. Songbird, Sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Stan discuss their future together

Stan steps out of the bedroom to Bill in the kitchen trying to get some breakfast into Maria, having recently been a struggle with the fussy baby, not liking the food the boys have purchased. Nonetheless, she must eat it because they don’t have the money to throw around just because she’s picky, they assume she’ll eventually just learn to suck it up and not be so picky so long as they learn not to give in.

He makes his way to the counter, pressing the button to start the comforting low hum of the coffee maker. He hums to himself, opening the curtain peacefully to let the light spill in from the sunlight that early morning brings. 

He pulls the elastic of his boxers up with a sigh, finally letting his mind wake up slowly for the day. "Morning, Bill," he says finally, turning on his heel to go back to the fridge. He pops it open, pulling out the creamer. He'd never admit it but he can hardly stand his coffee without it. He'd only ever drink black coffee when out with new people, his most noticeable power move.

“Morning, Stan, I imagine you’re not alone?” he asks with a teasing smirk, having heard the noises from the room over, obviously coming from more than just Stan. Mike has most likely been over, bringing a pang of jealousy to Bill’s emotions that he hides with his smooth smile and normal calm expression so that they would not know of his internal monologue turning sour.

“Nope,” Stan says, closing the fridge and swivelling around on his heel with a pleased, entirely blissful grin towards his friend. He goes to set the creamer beside the coffee pot, reaching up nearly on his tiptoes to the very topmost shelf to retrieve his mug. 

“Save it, smug asshole,” Bill says with a smirk, nudging the spoon at Maria’s lips until she accepts it with a small sound of hesitant agreement, making an annoyed face to her father in her betrayal once she realizes that it’s the same thing that he’d fed her with the last spoonful, which she’d not so subtly made him aware that she hated.

Next, Mike moseys his way to the kitchen from Stan’s room, donning what seems to be only his boxer briefs and a robe, decidedly belonging to Stan and not himself. He wraps his arms around Stan’s waist with a comfortable hum, “Mornin’, songbird,” he mumbles with his sleep-warm lips against Stan’s neck.

“Yeah- Maria and I are out,” Bill says quickly, the green eyed monster taking a place deep in the pit of his stomach. He lifts the infant from her highchair, hugging her to him with one arm and using the other to scoop up the mess from her breakfast. He drops the baby food stuff into the sink- he plans to do something with the endless glass jars, they could possibly serve useful.

He dances through the living room back to his room with Maria bouncing against his chest as he goes, “We’re gonna go get dressed, yeah? Yeah?” He baby talks down to the small girl, closing the bedroom door behind him as he enters, leaving Mike and Stan surprised but otherwise unbothered.

Mike continues giving affection to Stan’s neck, eliciting a small purr from the dark haired man in front of him, leaning back onto Mike’s chest with a little giggle of blissfulness. “Morning, Sunflower,” he greets, letting his hands meet Mike’s around his waist.

“You want any coffee?” Stan asks next, turning in Mike’s arms so they now stand chest to chest, Mike pushing only slightly so that Stan’s back is against the fridge, placing a peck on Stan’s soft lips.

“Let, me pour you some for once,” Mike says once he finds it in him to pull away. He goes to the coffee maker, seeing that the pot is full and Stan’s mug has already been retrieved from the top shelf, he pours in a generous amount, “Kept you up late, didn’t I?” he teases as he goes about pouring in Stan’s normal amount of creamer.

Stan blushes slightly, taking the mug to take an awkward sip instead of answering to the tease, peeking his eyes curiously over the mug with a shy smile shining in the hazel. “Possible,” He says simply, the word echoing into the mug, sending brown ripples through the liquid. He takes another sip as soon as the word leaves his lips, seeking his morning energy.

“Well, it’s not my fault my boy is so good,” Mike says without missing a beat, starting to pour his own mug. Stan nearly spits his mouthful of coffee back into the drink, swallowing it as quickly as he can instead, chewing his lip and looking at Mike with a mild scowl.

“Shush, or you won’t be allowed back here,” he says quickly, though he and Mike both know the untruth the lie tells, Stan can’t help but keep Mike close to him, finding a comfort in his soothing personality and his mellow dominant personality.

“Oh you know that’s not true, Stanny,” Mike’s voice brings next, dripping with sweetness for his boyfriend, their flame rekindled to a wildfire, quick and hot and passionate. Stan emits a small giggle, chewing his lower lip childishly to calm himself to the situation. 

Suddenly, the heat is broken by Bill pushing open the bedroom door in his work clothes, Maria dressed colorfully and mismatched, “Good look for her?” he asks sarcastically, holding her arm in his hand to make her wave at the two.

“Bye guys!” he says through the corner of his mouth in a light and airy impression of what he may think a little girl sounds like, grinning proudly to himself. “See what Uncle Richie taught us, isn’t that cool?” Bill asks, being animated enough to obviously still mostly talking to the infant, he’s looked it up and supposedly it’s supposed to teach them to talk sooner. 

Stan laughs slightly, sipping at his coffee and reaching out for Mike’s free hand with his own, “Off to daycare?” He asks, squeezing Mike’s hand discreetly in hoping.

“Yup! And I’ve got work, could you guys please, please, please pick her up for me? I’ve got a late shift at the bar, I need the money,” he begs, throwing on his most convincing puppy dog eyes for the men in the kitchen, still unphased at their near nakedness.

Stan grumbles out a sigh, looking up to Mike’s nod and smile only to have to agree with Bill as well, “Yeah, text me the address later, I don’t have it in my phone yet,” he says, waving the two off so he and Mike could get back to their thing. 

“Thank you!” Bill shouts quickly behind him, already leaving the apartment, having Stan looking at the digital clock, he’s late, figures.

Mike turns his attention back to Stan, wasting no time in lifting him up under his hips and hoisting him atop the counter, standing between the man’s knees, tugging Stan’s lower lip into his mouth sensually, holding his arms firmly around Stan’s waist.

“God, I can’t wait to propose one day, and get married, and have kids,” Mike starts listing off between their lips meeting, seeing Stan’s expression change at the last one. Pulling away slightly.

“I don’t know if I actually want kids yet, Mikey, I don’t think I want that responsibility until I’m older, like in my thirties or forties,” Stan starts. In reality, he knows he wants kids, though this is just a bit of a test while still tied with is own insecurity. He knows he wants kids genetically related to him, though he’d recently found out that he has a remarkably low sperm count, leaving him almost entirely unable to. He wants kids more than anything, but he has to reconsider because his life plan to have kids has been practically derailed. 

Mike’s expression falls, “I want to have kids within the next few years, move out of the city, I miss small town life,” he says, trying to explain himself as well, the sexual tension evaporating away to disappointment and confusion.

“Out of the city? I might get another place, but I’ve made a home here, Mikey, I’ve got a job, friends, a usual cafe where they know my order, everything,” Stan has always felt the need to belong, and he feels like he belongs here. Despite the crime statistics, he feels safer in a big city like this than the uneasiness the Derry atmosphere had given him as a child.

“Stan..” Mike trails off, pulling away slightly, he’d been so sure. So sure that nothing could falter his faith in this relationship lasting a lifetime, but he can’t bring himself to compromise that much of what he needs for himself, but doesn’t want for Stan to have to do the same either. “I’m gonna go home and get ready for work, yeah?” Mike says, already walking back to the bedroom to gather his things.


	5. New Neighbor Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang meets Ben Hanscom.

The days go by of Stan doing nothing but laying on the couch and grunting in response to questions, avoiding the gazes of Bill and Richie despite the fact that he knows they just want to help. They’re his best friends, he shouldn’t be so scared to tell them. But, he hadn’t even told them in the first place that he couldn’t have kids, in fact, Mike was the first person he’d ever told.

Bill comes home finally after his long shift. Stan knows he’s exhausted and he knows he’s worried. But he also knows that despite not being in the best shape himself, Bill is still going to whine and beg Stan for hours trying to get him to go out and do something in public with him. He just wants to get Stan out of the apartment, says it would be “good for him”. _Good for me, my ass_ , Stan thinks to himself bitterly.

If he sees Mike out in public, it would all be over for him. It would be worse, yes, even worse if he sees Mike. Worse hardly even seems possible, and his relationship with Mike feels miles away, like hearing the sea from a distance but only because you’ve held a shell up to your ear. The shell up to his ear is the memories, and the fact that Mike is still present. He’ll always be friends with the other losers. Stan can only hope he can fix the friendship, though he’s definitely overdoing it, it’s just a misunderstanding. He should have just told him.

The self blame has to stop, that’s what his childhood therapist would tell him in a time like this. Everything being out of order cannot possibly solely rest on his shoulders, it’s all about a string of unfortunate events that lead him here. Bill’s kid, everyone coming back, and the diagnosis, and the lie. It can’t possibly go back to Maria, though, she’s only a child, therefore, he needs to think back farther or he needs to just decide that it’s not purely anyone’s fault. Maybe that’s what his therapist had always tried to teach him. It doesn’t need to be someone’s fault, sometimes it needs to just be.

Before he can even consider the thought any further, he hears a key in the doorknob, either Rich or Bill arriving back, likely Richie for Bill’s shifts often run later than this. But to his surprise, it is the tired ginger who walks in through the door with Maria sitting carelessly in the baby carrier strapped to his chest.

“We need a new day care, they say I always pick her up too late,” he says with a sigh, dropping himself down on the couch next to Stan carefully enough as not to shake the baby too much. “It’s been a day,” he sighs, “I got a call and had to leave work early to go pick her up, they’d discussed it and can’t take my ‘irresponsible parenting’ anymore,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle.

Stan frowns worryingly at his friend, nothing seems to go completely right for Bill, no matter how he tries, it’s been that way since they were kids. At least in family matters. Nevertheless his past with failure, Stan simply scoots to sit closer, his head dropping to Bill’s shoulder, “It’s been a week,” he agrees with a slight yawn.

“Agreed,” Bill sighs, thinking of all the angry drunks he’d had during the game the other night, and how he’s already gotten rejected on tindr and it’s only Wednesday. He just wishes the cute ones would humor him, but a baby is a bit of a dealbreaker for the kind of people he wants to be with at this point in his life. And he doesn’t blame him, he wouldn’t want to either.

Next, the figure appeared in the doorway that Stan had earlier, Richie Tozier opens the door and appears in room. “Hiya, lads!” the man yells kicking his shoes off his feet straight into the side of the couch. “I’m home, and so is- Bill? Thought you had work?” Richie asks, looking concerned, he knows that Bill really doesn’t like to miss work, he feels as if he’s not doing what he’s supposed to if he’s not.

“Had to go get Maria, she was being fussy so they called me, then I was late picking her up early and now we need a new daycare,” Bill explains, rubbing frustratedly at his temples just thinking about it again, a resurgence of unwanted stress invading his thoughts.

“Well, I’m gonna help the new person downstairs move in, could be a hot chick, we don’t know,” Rich says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Don’t tell Eds I said that, he’d kill me even though I’m joking,” he chuckles.

“I’ll help too, may as well help someone, s’posed to make you feel better about yourself, yeah?” Bill suggests, putting his arm out to Stan next to help him up in hopes that he’ll agree and come along, they can at lease go out and do something unlike the days before.

“Okay, if you guys are doing something for the neighbor it would be weird if I didn’t too, I’ll look rude when they find out I live here too,” he shrugs, taking Bill’s hand to get up, filling with a certain warmth with his help, he’ll always be grateful for his friends, they’re always there for him, and he’ll always be there for them.

They put on appropriate clothing to carry boxes and they slip on their respective pairs of sneakers, all piling into the elevator with Bill having Maria still strapped to his chest with the carrier. She was definitely going to make this interesting.

Bill goes to press the button for the floor below them but Richie smacks his hand away and presses the button first, offering Bill nothing but a smug little grin and a gleam of pride in his eyes, Bill had forgotten that pressing buttons tends to be a competition, simply for how important it makes Richie feel (and Bill usually does let Richie press buttons for him for that exact reason).

The elevator slowly drops down to the floor below. Richie slides up and down on his heels, having only a little bit of anxiety with elevators because of a few too many YouTube videos late at night with Bill in his first nights staying here. He doesn’t know how Bill falls asleep to those, but he seems to and also seems to come out unphased. 

The doors slide open, all three of them going to exit first only to be met with a pretty girl trying to step her way into the elevator, Bill greets her with a grin, looking teasingly at the other two, being the only properly single person who would be interested in her. “Hello, sorry for almost bumping into you, I’m Bill,” he introduces himself, a bit clumsily. He holds his arm protectively around Maria, even if girls don’t like him having a baby, the protective dad trope always gets him brownie points.

“I’m Allie, just visiting a friend,” she says simply, obviously not picking up on Bill’s interest in her, but he doesn’t have the energy to push it. Also, Maria has taught him not to push it, or else another one of her will be pushed out another nine months later.

Bill justs nods, letting her step into the metal box and stepping out with the other two, “Maybe I’m not really ready for a relationship,” he says with a sheepish grin to the other two, trying to mask his genuine awkwardness around girls, all primarily caused by his raging jealousy.

The three walk their way to the door with boxes upon boxes stacked atop each other, looking around to wait for the said resident, Bill happy instead of sour that the beautiful girl they’d seen wasn’t moving in here, he’d already probably made it too awkward.

Finally, a man walks up to them, “Can I help you?” he asks, he has a low but gentle sounding voice, some nicely groomed facial hair, and obviously hadn’t made the mistake of a goatee yet, so likely around their age. He carries a few grocery bags obviously repurposed for his moving, seeming to have small trinkets in them.

“Actually, we heard you were moving in and we thought we’d come and see if you want help?” Richie asks, speaking just a bit too fast. He may have joked about a hot woman, but he didn’t expect a man who is definitely buff under the shirt he’s wearing. He already knows he should set him up with Stan, maybe it could even earn him a single compliment from the stoic friend.

“Oh,” the man says, looking pleased, “My name is Ben, what about yours? I don’t want people in my apartment until I know their names at least, call me old fashioned,” he jokes with a hearty laugh. Richie likes him even more. He’s funny, but soft spoken enough to be compatible with his friend, newly seemingly out of a relationship. 

“Richie Tozier’s my name, and this is Bill Dumb-bro and Stanley Urine,” he says with a teasing grin to his two friends, “Denbrough and Uris, only I can call them the nicknames or you get punched,” he whispers to Ben, seeing the increasing redness of particularly Stan’s face. 

“So? How can we help?” Bill asks, bouncing around to keep Maria busy, seeming like Ben has only just noticed him or Maria.

“You sure you want to help? You’ve got a little one to look after,” Ben coos, looking down at Maria with a bright smile and a happy shimmer in his eye, “I’ve got my own, over by her grandma right now,” he says fondly, straightening up again after a moment. “Got married in college, didn’t last, and here she is,” he chuckles softly to himself, “Never rush into a future you’re not ready for,” he says, accompanying his wisdom with a sure nod. _This guy is perfect for Stan right now_ , Richie tells himself, already formulating the plan.


	6. Second Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ben go on their first date.

The next morning, Stan whistles his way blissfully to the breakfast table where Richie is already sitting, he always has toaster waffles on Saturdays, always has since he was young. Stan and Bill both know this, joining in when they can. Stan sits across from Richie, reaching over to snatch a cut square of waffle from the boy’s plate with a menacing smirk, obviously in one of his good moods. 

“So, the handsome Ben from downstairs text you? Hm?” Richie asks with a teasing smirk of his own, flicking Stan’s hand from where it stole his food, “Make your own, dickhead,” he tells him, though not meaning it, he just has a “reputation” to uphold.

Stan flushes a deep red. The lack of communication from Mike made him hurt until now, he and Ben had texted all night. He’s tired, his eye bags drooping and his skin not at top notch, but it all doesn’t matter because of his bright eyes and genuine smile.

“We talked a bit, yeah,” he says simply, trying to hold up his own reputation for being not as emotional as he truly feels. He’s usually quiet, and he doesn’t often talk about his love life. Before Mike, he’d never been one for PDA or to be affectionate outside of the comfort of being alone.

“A bit? Wow Stan! He must have written you a ten page long love poem!” Richie jokes, laughing to himself at that, though he wouldn’t even doubt it if that could happen, Stan is a mighty swell guy in his eyes, anyone would do that for him. At least Richie knows he would. Though, he knows that “a bit” really does mean a lot, Stan has learned to talk less than what’s actually going on, they must have really been talking, not just making plans. Really talking.

Stan blushes slightly, “I don’t know what to do about Mike, though,” Stan says softly, rubbing his temple with a small sigh. He knows he still loves him, though Ben is a good option too, he thinks he likes them both and it just feels _wrong._

“You’ll figure it out, Ben is good for you though, I think,” Richie says, talking with his mouth full of sticky waffle bites, though his statement is genuine despite his demeanor saying otherwise. He nods after he says it, assuring it for himself, almost as if to prove his sincerity. He truly just wants Stan to be happy.

“Thanks, Rich,” Stan says, looking down at his hands clasped on the dining table, twiddling his thumbs on top of each other, a personal thumb war that almost symbolizes his internal conflict. He’s not a cheater, he shouldn’t do it no matter how much his heart sings the want to. Wants can be different than morals, and he just wants to resist this one for his own good. 

“I’m gonna shower, maybe brush my teeth, unless you have a hot date to get ready for?” Richie says suggestively with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows and a smile with his tongue between his front teeth. 

Stan flushes with a crimson embarrassment, chewing his lip awkwardly, “I’ve got a date to get ready for,” he confirms, already sliding out of his chair to get ready. He knows that Richie doesn’t actually mean he needs to get ready, the night before he’d already detailed his plans to “veg” on the couch and watch Sunday afternoon cartoons, so Stan has plenty of time to get ready for his Panera lunch date. 

He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, streaked with marks, one of the four lightbulbs above it flickering in a way that builds his anxiety. He’s never liked this bathroom, it’s spooky in the way that things never seem to work properly and it makes him fear the electrical and plumbing of the building he lives in.

He splashes a handful of cold water on his face, trying to shock the remaining red blush off his cheeks, it seems to work, thankfully. He scans the shelves for what he wants, his hair gel. He always pulls it back, he can feel it uncomfortably on his forehead when it gets long and he doesn’t tolerate it. Life is easier with his hair off his face.

He pushes the dark brown locks back, Richie always joked when they were younger how he looks like James Bond. His energetic friend would jump up behind him and shake him by the shoulders, whispering ‘shaken, not stirred’ into Stan’s ear. Even in remembering it, Stan can almost feel Richie’s hot, bubblegum scented breath on his ear. 

He looks at himself finally, pleased with how much sharper her feels. He pulls off his sleep shirt, swiping deodorant on before spritzing himself with his “fancy” cologne. He walks back into the living room to get back to his room, wanting to pick the perfect outfit. 

He hears Richie whistle at him through the haze of the mission, trying his hardest to focus on getting ready. First impressions are important, but second ones truly make a difference. “Lookin’ hot, Urine!” the boy shouts, bringing an unimpressed scowl to Stan’s lips.

“Are you ever going to call me anything besides that dumb nickname?” he asks, stopping in his place in front of the couch, covering the tv from Richie’s view so he can be sure to grab his attention and hopefully gain a straight answer.

“Fine, Stan The Man,” Richie says proudly, leaning his head back on his arms as he lays sprawled across the couch with a bottle of pepsi. 

“If you spill pepsi on my couch you’re paying for it,” Stan says simply before heading into his room, buttoning his shirt up and pulling on a pair of jeans, he doesn’t want to be too fancy. He feels as if looking pretentious is the worst thing he could do. Ben already knows the building where he lives. He doesn’t have anything to brag about. Except, maybe, having the best group of friends in the world.

He finally decides himself ready, picking up the keys to his silver car, one of his pride and joys, Eddie had helped him research and pick the car to his own needs, it gets him where he needs to go and he wouldn’t wish it any different. Though he possibly wishes that it weren’t used, whenever he presses a button he hasn’t in a while he wonders whose hands may have touched it before him, it usually brings a small shiver down his spine. His anxiety meds are helping though, day to day isn’t so awful.

He tilts the mirror down to look himself in the eye one more time before adjusting it and pulling out of the apartment’s garage. He tries not to think of his first date anxiety the entire drive down to the outlet mall they’d planned on meeting, simply trying to talk himself up.

From the moment he meets Ben in front of the Panera until the end of the date is all a blur, except when Ben walks him back to his car, “Ben, do you want to come back to my place?” Stan asks timidly, he feels good about it, he’s just unsure of how Ben will feel.

Ben replies with a simple nod and a creeping grin onto his lips, he hasn’t expected someone to like him the way Stan seems to. His self view his heavily plagued by childhood insecurities, no matter how much he tells himself he’s changed, no matter how much work he’s put in. he will always see himself as the shy kid who sits in the back of the library with a stack of books so tall that he can’t be seen behind them.

They drive side by side, something that can only be done so long until the road merges into a single lane, though it was fun while it lasted. They’d exchange innocent smiles and winks at red lights, hoping that the red in their faces wasn’t so obvious.

They both pull into their apartment spots, meeting at the elevator, their fingers interlocking, and despite Ben’s clammy hands, Stan finds comfort in it. They go all the way to the fourth floor where the apartment lies before either of them make more of a move. But when the beep of the elevator comes, Stan pushes them out of the elevator doors, Ben’s back against the wall outside of it. 

He doesn’t know where the confidence comes from, but his lips meet Ben’s, pulling away out of breath even though it was only a peck, he’d been holding his breath. Ben looks a pleasant kind of surprised for a moment before pulling Stan’s face back, his hand held against Stan’s jaw in a way that brings butterflies to the man’s stomach.

They stumble into the apartment, drunk on new love, finally expressing it physically after both holding back. Stan’s shirt comes off even before they hit the bedroom, and Ben’s pants right before the bedroom door, dropping to the tile of the kitchen floor.

It’s awkward and sloppy and nothing like when Stan’s been with Mike. But he thinks it was just as beautiful. He feels the same euphoria after, his head cuddled against Ben’s chest. He never thought he would like hairy chests, but Ben seems to make it work.

He finally checks his phone, seeing a voicemail Mike had left him two hours ago. His stomach droops with guilt, “I gotta go check this, I’ll be back,” he says sweetly, already crawling out of the bed.

He gets to the living room, finally remembering that Richie had been there though the whole frenzy, his roommate looking at him in a way he never had, some sort of twisted pride in him. “Date went well?” he asks teasingly, crossing one leg over the other in a curious “4” shape.

“Yeah,” Stan breathes out, pressing play on the voicemail, forgetting that his phone has been on speaker since his call with Ben the night before.

“Hey Stan, it’s Mike, I really want to talk to you tonight, would dinner work?” the message rings out, making Stan’s heart jump into his throat, and Richie looking up at him awkwardly. They both don’t know how to respond to that so soon, Ben still laying in Stan’s bed in the other room.

“So… are you gonna go?” Richie asks, an uncomfortable grimace crossing his face at the expression of confused anger that Stan gives him in response.


	7. Need Some Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben heads home after his time with Stan, trying not to feel weird about the fact that Stan is going back to talk to Mike again. 
> 
> Stan tries to talk to Mike about how he feels but it goes less smoothly than he'd hope.

Ben goes downstairs from the apartment, having his shirt on inside out and his pants buttoned but not zipped. The walk of shame is always embarrassing, but turns out that it can be especially embarrassing when the other half of your rendezvous lives in the same apartment so everyone will eventually come to recognize you as the single dad from downstairs instead of just some stranger that Stan met at the bar. He comes home to the babysitter asleep on the couch and his daughter sitting in the walker, letting her big blue eyes meet his own when the baby looks over in a sleepy shock. He goes over with a sigh and pulls the baby up by under her armpits with a breath of effort. “Sorry that daddy is home so late,” he says with a sorry sigh, bouncing her a little as he walks her to her crib in the guest room, laying her down carefully. She squirms around in excitement at seeing her dad a little before calming down now that she’s in her crib.

She seems to start to calm down again and he goes to start the mobile on it’s spinning and makes sure the baby monitor has the green light on before turning off the light in the nursery and walking out. He goes out into the kitchen and opens the fridge and pulls out a beer bottle, popping it open from under the cap with his thumb nail. He takes a swig off the bottle. Now Ben Hanscom wouldn’t call himself an alcoholic, but he is one to turn to a drink or two in times of stress. He had an amazing time with Stan, and he knows the former felt the same, but he also knows that Stan and Mike have history, they talked about it in their night of texting. He hadn’t minded, at first he thought he really might be alright with being a rebound. He takes another swig off the bottle and meanders to his spot on the couch, one leg hanging over the edge and other sprawled over it, trying to kick his shoes off without having to lean down to grab his shoes off his feet. He stares up his ceiling. In his old place he’d had glow in the dark stars on his living room ceiling, and he might just have to do that again, just because he’s a grown man and can do what he wants, goddamnit.

He’d spent most of his day just wandering around after he left Stan’s, mostly thinking. He’s not much of a people person, not one to find someone to talk to when someone is bothering him, more of someone to think and think and think until he finally understands it enough for it not to hurt anymore. He likes to think he’s a lone wolf but really whenever he finds someone he really likes he ends up clinging to them in his need for human interaction that he forgets he even has until he starts to fulfill it. He never thought he was lonely until he was no longer alone. He ends up passed out asleep on the couch instead of his own bed, snoring away with his empty beer bottle on the floor next to the couch where his hand hangs down limply in his non conscious state.

He doesn’t wake up until morning to his baby’s cry in the other room, thank god for Julie. She keeps him just about sane when it come to his lower times in life. He knows he has to pull himself together to keep her taken care of at all times. His life revolves around being a dad now and he doesn’t mind it one bit. He gets up off of the couch, knocking over the glass bottle with a dull clink on the floor, at least it didn’t break. The last thing he wants to deal with this morning is broken glass to go with his slight hangover. He makes his way to his daughters room hastily to pick her up out of the crib with a groan, “Ah, you’re getting big,” he says with a chuckle, which reminds him of the days his mom would say that to him. He was never fat, only large or big to Arlene Hanscom. He almost appreciates how she was to him as a kid, but he almost wishes he could have been told the truth and changed sooner. It would have saved him a lot of heartache from the school bullies from Elementary school all the way through high school.

He picks Julie up out of the crib, smiling sleepily at her even through the morning haze. She gives him a gummy smile like babies do and it makes him smile like he always does and somehow things feel back to normal again. “Ready for your morning bottle?” he asks, holding her against his chest to take her out to the kitchen. He slides her into the plastic high chair that’s positioned by the window. He looks around at his kitchen full of boxes, wondering which one exactly he remembers leaving the baby food in. he knows he had it last night, but he really should be putting it away so it’ll be easier to find whenever he needs it. He finds the one labelled “kitchen: Julie” and he knows it’s the right one. He pulls out the baby formula and a clean bottle and makes the formula and warms it up in the microwave before testing it on his wrist and deeming it alright for her.

He hands it over to her and holds it in her mouth until she gets her hold on it, starting to prepare his morning protein shake. Their morning routine is something of comfort to him. They both drink from their bottles in their pajamas and he gets ready to go out or to just hang around the house all day with Seseme Street playing in the background of nearly everything else he does to make sure Julie stays content. He’s a good dad, sure, but maybe not the most constantly present one, almost like his mother in his youth. She’ll probably be just as independent as he was, and maybe that’s not a problem, he thinks he turned out just fine. (Despite the abandonment issues- but he doesn’t even want to let that thought bubble to the forefront of his mind.)

-

Meanwhile Stan was supposed to have his dinner with Mike to talk the night before but Mike ended up having a work emergency, too many people had called in sick so he couldn’t take the time off. But he nearly never works mornings so a conversation at a coffee shop sounds like just as good of a plan, a less romantic gesture, but he and Stan can be mushy gushy without sticking all to society's expectations of people who are together.

Stan puts on his light blue button up, trying to straighten out his hair. He hears Bill and Maria wake up in the other room but he doesn’t let their presence shake him. He just wants to talk to Mike and sort this out. He really doesn’t want to leave the city, he’d be fine raising a family and growing old here, it feels like the place for him, just constantly lonely enough to feel right. But he will however, bring up again how he’s just fine with the prospect of a house in the country. He musses his hair up just a little, not wanting to seem like he’s trying too hard. It sounds like Bill has left the house in a rush again like he often does, and finally Stan can sigh out in relief knowing that he can be less anxious now, nobody is home to tease him now, he can go to the coffee shop and meet with Mike and even if it doesn’t go well he can go home and sulk all by himself.

He finally sees to it that he’s presentable enough to leave the bathroom, going out into the living room and pulls on his shoes. He folds his light coat over his forearm and locks the door on his way out. He walks out on the sidewalk, looking fashionable in his fancy little brown autumn coat and his dark jeans that almost look more like dress pants than the skinny jeans they are. He can smell the bitter scent of coffee from over 100 paces away from the entrance, ready to go in and wait for Mike and mentally prepare himself. He’s not so lucky though and he spots Mike in one of his gray hoodies sitting on one of the outdoor tables he sighs and looks down and hope he can go a few more unnoticed moments before Mike calls him over.

He finally hears his name, having to look up with a prepared smile to meet him. “Hey Mike,” he greets brightly on his way. He slides into the metal chair, a coffee already on his spot. Mike doesn’t even need to explain it for him to know, Mike had ordered his favorite coffee, he’s always been considerate that way. God- Mike is a good boyfriend. It makes Stan feel even worse for what he did with Ben.

“I went on a date and slept with my downstairs neighbor-,” he blurts out as he sees Mike opening his mouth to say something. Mike closes his mouth and then closes it again and closes his eyes with a little sigh. “I’m really sorry. His name is Ben and I think I actually do like him and- I’m so confused right now I’m sorry,” Stan says softly, feeling about ready to cry. Not because he just revealed that, but because he feels bad about what he’s done to Mike, he looks actually hurt.

“Is there any way I can help? Like help you be less confused?” Mike asks, and God it breaks Stan’s heart even more. He’s one of the best people he could ever meet.

“I just need some time, I need to figure out how I feel,” he admits, looking down at his to go cup before picking it up to take a drink, taking note of Mike’s nod and forced supportive expression.


End file.
